Prison of Light
by JessicaJones
Summary: A young apprentice wants nothing more than to go home, but the Circle exists for a reason, and freedom comes with a price.  My entry for Bioware's Creative Writing Contest.


_This was my entry for the Bioware creative writing contest. It suffers somewhat from the 2,500 word limit, but I decided not to expand it, so as to leave it as I submitted it. Thanks to Sagacious_Rage for the beta._

_This is a hard T - there is some violence, oblique references to sex, and character death._

* * *

><p>Amelia missed her parents terribly. Other mages spoke of fathers who beat them, or mothers who cursed their birth, but her parents were different. They had taken her to the White Spire, but only because her unschooled magic gave her fits and they hadn't known how else to help. Her father had cried and kissed her hair.<p>

She wasn't allowed to see them, but her mother still sent letters, sometimes, and boxes of her favorite cookies, traditional biscuits from Halamshiral. The tang of anise told her she was loved.

But then a mage blew up a Chanty in Kirkwall. The Templars changed. Without explanation Amelia was transferred to Ferelden, and the letters stopped. There was no anise in Ferelden. There was only gruel and the stench of hounds.

-o-

Amelia had only the barest grasp of the language. She had learned Trade in primary, but the other apprentices spoke so quickly she couldn't follow. There was only one other Orlesian in the Circle Tower, a girl with narrow eyes named Sophie. Amelia clung to her like a shadow.

"To fit in you must know your place." Sophie nodded at a pair of girls in the center of the dormitory. "That's Maura and Beatrice. They're the best in Creation, and the most popular girls in the Tower."

Amelia nodded solemnly, and Sophie gestured at a pack of boys lounging near the door. "They're Elemental," she elaborated. "Flashy, but you could do worse."

Sophie continued to explain the school hierarchy, while Amelia looked over the room. Her eyes found a boy by himself in the corner, hunched over a book, his face pinched in a frown. His robes were much nicer than the others. He was tall, but not lanky, with thick chestnut hair pulled back in a braid. Amelia's mouth went dry.

Sophie followed her eyes and scowled. "And _that_ is Connor Guerrin. We don't talk to him."

"He's so, um..." Amelia searched for words that wouldn't give her away. "He's older than the other boys."

"He may be the oldest apprentice in the history of the Tower," Sophie scoffed. "There's no point in Harrowing him, after all." Amelia looked at her, and Sophie shrugged. "Everyone knows he'd fail. He's already been possessed."

Amelia gasped. "How is he alive?" She didn't know anyone came back from that.

"An apostate saved him, with blood magic. His mother died."

"How tragic!" Amelia covered her mouth. "Why isn't he Tranquil?"

"His father is one of the local dog lords. Neutering him would upset the King." Sophie rolled her eyes. "He'll be an apprentice 'til he dies."

Sophie went on to gripe about Fereldans, and Amelia glanced back at the boy. This time, Connor looked up and met her gaze. His eyes were dark brown, deep and sad, and Amelia turned away, blushing to the roots of her hair.

-o-

True magic did not come easily to Amelia.

She wanted to learn Creation magic, but after months of trying she couldn't heal more than a scratch. Her fire spells were no more threatening than matchsticks, and her spirit bolts barely sparks, so the violent schools were also beyond her.

She had more success with telekinetic spells. Amelia was assigned to Enchanter Tevin, a severe looking elf from the Arcane school. She tried not to stare at his ears.

He brought her into his office and set a small box down on his desk. From a drawer he produced a rat, and he put it inside the box. It squeaked and Amelia flinched.

"The most powerful spell in this school is the crushing prison." Tevin spread his hands and blue magic jumped between his long fingers. He flicked his wrist and suddenly the rat was caught in a cage of blue light.

Amelia stared in awe. She could see all the threads of his power, weaving a pattern between his will and the Fade. She had never seen any spell so clearly. The rat broke free, scurrying around its box, and Tevin lowered his hands.

"Care to try it?" he asked.

After a moment Amelia nodded. She lowered her guard and opened a window to the Fade. She felt its intoxicating power filling her; she channeled it to her hands. Her eyes followed the rat, watching and waiting, and then when it turned she snapped. The rat ran into the ethereal bars of her cage and she sealed it inside with a grin.

"Good girl," Tevin said. He smiled approvingly, and Amelia swelled with pride. He pushed the box towards her. "Now tighten it."

Amelia frowned. "Can I let the rat out first?" she asked.

"No." Tevin shook his head. "This spell won't work without a target."

The rat looked up at her with beady eyes. Her pride fled to the pit of her stomach, making her ill. "But..."

Tevin took her by the shoulder. "Amelia, you're almost seventeen. If you don't learn at least one useful spell before your Harrowing, you will fail." He squeezed her so hard she winced. "It's you or the rat."

Amelia pulled away from him, but the door was locked and there was nowhere to go. Power flowed into her, making her blood pound and her fingers numb. She didn't know how to release the spell. Tears spilled from her eyes. Amelia closed her hands.

The cage began to shrink, and the rat squealed, running in circles until it couldn't run anymore. The bars closed tighter, and tighter, and then the rat exploded into meat, and it was over.

Amelia didn't realize she was shrieking until Tevin took hold of her. "Shh, it's done," he said. "You don't have to do it again."

But Amelia knew that wasn't true. She was trapped by her curse, just like the rat, and she would have to do it again, over and over, whenever the Chantry bid her. She sobbed into his shoulder.

-o-

There was only one window on the first floor of the Tower. It was just a vent in the hall behind the library, but it faced south and through it Amelia could see the outline of a town. It was brown and dreary like all of Ferelden, but Amelia imagined that there were good families there, with mothers who kissed the children and sang them songs at night. She liked to watch the lights go out.

"You're in my spot."

Amelia breath hitched as she turned and saw Connor, his dark eyes glaring with accusation. She stood up quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

Connor sighed. "Never mind." He sat down and patted the floor beside him. Hesitantly, she sat back down, and he pointed out the window. "That's my castle. Or it was, anyway. I like to look at it sometimes."

Amelia nodded slowly. "I miss my home, also."

Connor was chewing on something. He lifted his chin and swallowed. "You're Amelia, right? I hear you joined Arcane. Congratulations."

Amelia slouched, crossing her arms over her stomach. "It wasn't my first choice."

"Tevin make you kill the rat?" Amelia nodded, and Connor exhaled. "He's trying to help, you know. It's important to have a skill."

"I'd rather it be needlework," Amelia groused.

Connor chuckled. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something thin and black. At first Amelia thought it was a wand; she felt foolish when she realized it was candy.

"Licorice?" he offered.

Amelia looked at him, then took it and bit off a small piece. It was cheap candy, but after what passed for food in Ferelden it was delicious. Amelia savored it, rolling it on her tongue, pressing it into the roof of her mouth.

"How did you get this?" she asked.

"Greagoir gives me things, sometimes." Connor bit off another piece. "He thinks it will help him with the Arl."

"Does it?"

"No." Connor frowned. "My father... we don't..."

His voice choked with unexpected grief, and Amelia felt an overwhelming urge to hold him. She swallowed the rest of her candy. "There is no mother who would not give her life for her son," she tried. The words were stilted as she reached the limits of her language. "You must not feel guilty."

Connor closed his eyes. "She was Orlesian, like you. I used to like the way she said _je t'aime_."

Amelia smiled. "_Je t'aime_."

He looked at her then, his brown eyes wide with longing. No one had ever looked at her like that. He was just on the cusp of manhood, an unsharpened sword. He reached out and touched her cheek.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

Amelia nodded. His mouth was still sticky with licorice. It was not a subtle flavor, sickly sweet and little bitter, but if she closed her eyes she could imagine it was anise.

-o-

"Something's wrong." Connor sat in her bunk with his back to the wall, propped on her pillow. "First Irving appoints a Libertarian to head the Aequitarians, then he disappears for weeks. The College should have adjourned by now."

He was agitated and spoke quickly, but Amelia was understanding more every day. "Do you think they will vote for our freedom?" she asked. "I hope they do. I miss Halamshiral."

Connor scowled at her. "You don't know," he said darkly. "I've seen what we can do, Amelia. I've _lived _ it." He lowered his eyes. "I should never be free."

Amelia touched his arm. "You can't blame yourself for what happened," she said. "You were ten. You're stronger now."

Connor shook his head, and he clutched his chest. "There is still a hole in my heart where the demon was," he said. "Sometimes I can feel them, clawing at my weakness. Rage demons, desire demons..." He looked up at her. "If anything happened to you, they would have me."

Amelia melted. "You care so much about me?"

Connor didn't answer, only took her hands in his. He was dangerously warm. Brazenly, Amelia pushed her lips into his. Connor responded to the kiss with hunger, and she leaned into him, bearing him down. Amelia fumbled with his robes.

Desire demons be damned.

-o-

A messenger flying the sunburst flag of the Chantry arrived, and then abruptly they were all confined to quarters. From behind their locked door, the apprentices heard shouting, and the Tower shook with magic.

The revolution had come.

The Elemental boys managed to break down the door. They ran out with staves raised, but they never came back, and no one else followed. Metal boots rang against stone. Beatrice began to cry.

"The Rite of Annulment..." Amelia felt the walls closing in.

Connor looked to the door. "We should run, find my father. We're dead if we stay here."

After a moment Amelia nodded, and she stood to follow him. Sophie stood with them.

"Don't leave me," she begged.

Amelia looked to Connor, who sighed and waved for her to join them. The three of them raced down the hall. When they reached the foyer, they saw the great door was rent by magic.

A cloaked man stepped through. Amelia stifled a scream, but it was only Irving. He must have returned behind the messenger. The First Enchanter was bent from fatigue, with the pallor of a mage who had exhausted his power.

Amelia worried he might send them back in their room, but after some thought Irving blew out a breath. "There's a boat outside," he said, with a defeated wave of his hand. "I will hold them as long as I can."

"Come on!" Sophie was already running. Amelia let Connor drag her along.

Cold air assaulted them; Amelia had forgotten how cold it could be. Connor scrambled into the boat, while Sophie and Amelia pushed off. The girls clambered inside, Connor heaved back the oars, and the boat lurched through the dark water.

"What now?" Sophie asked. "Will the Arl protect us?"

"I don't know," Connor said. Amelia bit her lip, and Connor met her eyes. "If he doesn't, we go to Orlais. Or Tevinter. I don't care, as long as we're together."

She smiled, and he smiled back. Sophie rolled her eyes.

After what seemed like hours they struck land. "Where are we?" Sophie fussed. " I can't see anything." Before they could respond she summoned a wisp. As its light left her hands, an arrow sunk into her chest. The spell died. Sophie slumped, and Amelia screamed.

Connor sprang out of the boat. "My name is Connor Guerrin!" he shouted. "Son of Arl Eamon and heir to Redcliffe. Don't shoot!"

"Connor...?" A lone knight stepped out of the shadows, flanked by two archers. They each had arrows at the ready.

"Perth!"

Connor's face broke in relief. He saluted, and Ser Perth returned the gesture before he glanced at Amelia, behind Connor, and frowned. "I saw the light and the robes and I didn't..." He swallowed. "I have orders to stop all mages at the shore."

"All mages." Connor grit his teeth, and his hands closed into fists.

"Please, go back to the Tower." Perth reached for his sword. "I don't want to hurt you."

Connor exhaled, and he turned to Amelia. She reached for his hand: it was no choice at all. Amelia shivered as the Veil tore around them, and Connor turned on Perth.

"You will _not hurt her!_" Before her eyes, Connor gave way to the demon. Amelia had never seen one before, but from illustrations she knew it was Rage. It was hulking and blood red, and more horrible than anything she had ever imagined. It leaped on Ser Perth, clawing at him with wicked talons. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut.

She covered her ears, but she could still hear its unearthly howling as the demon ravaged the men. When the screaming stopped, she opened her eyes. The demon was staring at her.

"_Sweet girl." _ Its words scratched trails of fire through her chest. _"Such a needy little thing. Your parents were so relieved when you were sent to Ferelden._"

"They loved me..." Amelia wrapped her arms around herself.

"_They abandoned you_. _I can make them pay. I can_—"

"No." Amelia couldn't bear to hear anymore. She let loose a blast of her will and the demon was stunned to silence. She sank to her knees.

Amelia only knew one other spell. Drawing more power, she captured the demon in a crushing prison. The demon thrashed, but her spell held and the bars closed in. Blue light flared and her hands shook, until the cage squeezed the demon out and there was only Connor.

"Amelia..." He looked at her with his sad eyes. He seemed himself again, but Amelia knew demons could change their appearance to trick you. She trembled and let the magic pour out of her until his blood misted the air.

Amelia fell, panting, to the ground. When she found her breath she rose, and took her first uncertain steps toward freedom.


End file.
